


Just As Soon Kiss A Wookie

by BoudicaMuse



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoudicaMuse/pseuds/BoudicaMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It just figured that this was the longest they'd stayed put at a single base since she joined up with the Alliance. She'd give anything to go back to the humid jungles of Yavin IV, or hell, even that shithole Dantooine, but no. Here she was, stuck in this frozen wasteland until their commanders got twitchy enough to move base again, or the Empire gathered enough intelligence to burn this location too. </p><p>Star Wars AU, where all the 100 gang are members of the Rebel Alliance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just As Soon Kiss A Wookie

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the first act of Empire Strikes Back, though it's been a few months since I watched it so I may or may not be playing fast and loose with the timeline. Those who have never seen the movie are probably fine to read this.

The Alliance base on Hoth is colder than anything Clarke has ever known before. She grew up on a small, but beautiful, _warm_ planet in the Inner Ring. Winters back home never brought anything harsher than a chilly rain, while venturing out into the balmy Hoth summer meant frostbite, hypothermia, and likely death if you were stupid enough to stay out after dark. Clarke constantly had her hands full in the infirmary and there was nearly always some idiot floating in one of the bacta tanks, recovering from exposure or some ice-related injury. It just figured that this was the longest they'd stayed put at a single base since she joined up with the Alliance. She'd give anything to go back to the humid jungles of Yavin IV, or hell, even that shithole Dantooine, but no. Here she was, stuck in this frozen wasteland until their commanders got twitchy enough to move base again, or the Empire gathered enough intelligence to burn this location too.

Clarke closed her eyes and cupped her hands around her warm mug of tea and tried to let some of that warmth seep in through her fingertips. She had maybe ten more minutes of peace before she had to get back to the infirmary. They were discharging Commander Skywalker today (Exposure, frostbite, concussion, lacerations to the face and shoulder. Damn wampas. As if the cold alone wasn't bad enough.) and despite everyone arguing that no one was more important than anyone else in the Alliance, the entire Med staff wanted to make a good impression. Even if the whispers of _Jedi_ weren't true, he was still the man who brought down the Death Star, still someone who was close to Princess Organa. The infirmary would probably be overflowing with the top brass all day long.

The table shook and the sound of food trays clattering to its surface forced Clarke to open her eyes, if only to cast a half-hearted glare at her friends. Jasper and Monty had joined up at the same time as her, both of them signed up for the dubious honor and glory of being fighter pilots. They'd latched on to her at their first new recruit orientation and they were both so consistently cheerful that it hadn't been much of a hardship to remain friends since.

"Soooo, what's the dirt on Skywalker? Is our resident Jedi Knight going to be hideously scarred? He'll have the princess falling all over him by the end of the week," Jasper said with a grin.

Monty cast his friend an incredulous look, one that Clarke felt mirrored on her own face.

"What?" Jasper said, his smile toning down a notch. "Chicks dig scars. Don't they?"

"He's not hideous." Clarke shrugged, choosing to ignore his question. "He'll have some scarring around his eyes but you can see for yourself soon enough. He's getting out today."

"Was it really all that serious? Word around the hangar is that he almost died," Monty said doubtfully.

Clarke shrugged again. "He could have if Captain Solo hadn't found him when he did." She shuddered at the memory of the smell that resulted from Solo's rescue. Not for the first time and not for the last, she cursed the Empire for decimating her safe, warm home world and bringing her here.

"Oh! Oh, tell her!" Jasper yelled, hitting Monty in the arm and knocking a food cube out of his hand.

Monty sent him a dry and quelling look before turning to her with a mischievous smile. "We caught Solo and Princess Organa arguing in the north corridor."

"What else is new," Clarke said with a snort.

"They were talking about her _feeeelings_ for him," Jasper said, grinning around a mouthful of chow.  

"I'm totally gonna win the pool,” Monty added.

"Wait she actually said she has feelings for him? I thought for sure she was going to choose Skywalker," Clarke said, momentarily stunned.

Not that Captain Solo wasn't attractive and charming in his own way, but he was kind of an ass half the time and Commander Skywalker was just so nice, on top of maybe being a Jedi and definitely being a war hero. She could see Solo’s appeal, but it wasn’t the choice she would have made.

"Gossiping again, boys?" Said a deep and painfully familiar voice to her left. "Surely you've got better things to do than speculate on the love lives of your superiors. Maybe I'd better find some work for you just to be sure."

Clarke cut her eyes to the side to see Bellamy Blake, Blue Squadron's devastatingly handsome and endlessly annoying leader towering over them. Jasper and Monty both hurriedly scooped the last of their lunch into their mouths and beat a hasty retreat in the direction of the hangar under his watchful gaze. She blew out a huff of air, irritated that he'd scared off her friends and that he was making her crane her neck back so far to look up at him.

"It's just a few harmless rumors, Bellamy."

"Didn't say it wasn't," he said with a smirk. "They just had patrol in five minutes and they've been late the past three times."

"Oh." She looked back down at her cooling mug, at a loss for something else to say. She'd been gearing up for a fight since most of their conversations ended up that way.

He rapped one knuckle sharply on the table and she looked back up at him to see something less like his trademark smirk and more like an honest to goodness smile on his face.

"I'll see you later, Princess." She opened her mouth to argue and Bellamy laughed, throwing up his hands in defense and walking backwards away from her. "I know, I know. It was a democratic republic and you were just someone's daughter."

Clarke blinked in shock, staring mutely as he sent her one more weirdly cheerful smile before turning on his heel and jogging out of the mess hall. She'd been repeating that phrase back to him for six months now and he's always just smirked at her and hissed _Princess_ at her in increasingly mocking tones. It had gotten to the point where she'd eventually cornered his sister Octavia, one of Clarke's fellow med techs, and asked if the word was slang for something else where they grew up. Octavia had just looked at her pityingly and told her it didn't have any meaning beyond what Bellamy's twisted mind had assigned it.

For once his little nickname for her didn't inspire the usual barrage of terrible memories, ones where the Capital burned around her and her parents were executed in front of her. Instead she lingered on his parting words. It was a democratic republic. Not perfect by any means, but it had been a peaceful and happy place to live. And she had been somebody's daughter. Jake and Abby Griffin had died because they refused to bend to the Empire's will, but she'd lived to carry on their ideals. She thought they'd be proud of her, even if most days it felt like all she did was wrap sprained ankles for people who had slipped in the base's icy corridors.

Taking one last sip of her tepid tea, Clarke rose and returned to work, a tiny smile on her face.

 

\---

 

That night was vid night and for lack of anything better to do, she went. Content to sit in the bluish light of the projector and just not talk to anyone for a while. She was sitting next to Raven, one of Blue’s X-wing mechanics, zoning out while something she'd seen a hundred times played out in front of her, when Bellamy took the seat on her other side. Stretching his long legs out in front of him, he leaned his calf against hers like this casual sort of touching is something they did all the time. She was tempted to pull away, but he was so warm and she was always, always cold on this planet. And whatever, it was just about four square inches of their legs touching. No big deal. Still, she exchanged a brief what-the-hell glance with Raven, because seriously, _what the hell_?

Another five minutes or so of boring dialogue on screen passed before she noticed that he was staring at her. Or rather, he was taking turns staring at her and staring at the couple sitting directly in front of them, Finn and Harper. Honestly she didn't see what was so fascinating. They were all just sitting there, pretending to watch the vid. Finn had his arm around Harper, playing with the ends of her hair. It was something that used to bother Clarke when she had dated Finn because it tickled like hell, but Harper didn't seem to mind. As far as Clarke knew they had just gotten together, but she seemed comfortable and relaxed against his side. Clarke finally gave up and turned to face Bellamy so he could feel the full force of her glare.

"What are you staring at?" She hissed at him.

"Nothing," he hissed back.

Finn turned around and shot them a disapproving frown. "Hey guys, come on. We're trying to watch the film."

Clarke rolled her eyes at the back of his head and exchanged another look with Raven. If there was one thing they could, and frequently did, bond over, it was how freaking glad they were about no longer being involved with Finn Collins.

Several minutes later and Clarke could feel Bellamy watching her again, so she nudged him with her leg. He nudged back until their legs were pressed together practically from hip to ankle. That was really too much. She should really move away or kick him in the ankle or something. Her hesitation lasted long enough that the warmth from his skin began to seep through the layers of their pants until he was just one long line of warmth against her. It felt so wonderful, she very nearly leaned into his side. Instead, she shot him a glance out of the corner of her eye and found him to be finally watching the vid, but the amused curl of his mouth told her he was paying more attention to her than the screen.

Clarke chewed on her bottom lip, honestly baffled by his behavior. It was almost like he was flirting with her, but that couldn't be right. They'd been antagonizing each other since the day they met. Why would he suddenly decide to show an interest?

The vid eventually ended and everyone filed out, streams of people heading back to their quarters or back to work for those unlucky enough to be on third watch. It was only after Raven split off from them, shouting a good night to them both, that Clarke realized Bellamy was walking her to her room. He should have gone down the south corridor with Raven if he wanted to get back to the pilots' barracks. He stayed by her side, though, matching her leisurely pace and talking about something Jasper had done earlier on patrol in a low, amused voice that had her edging closer so she could hear him better.

They stopped in front of her door just as Bellamy wrapped up his story and Clarke offered up a weak chuckle, but she really had no idea what he'd been telling her. He looked down at her with the sort of soft warmth in his eyes that he usually saved for Octavia and her breath caught in her throat. It was really disgustingly unfair how attractive he was. It was easier to ignore when he acted like a jerk, but that soft, happy look on his face had her defenses lowered.

"What's going on here? Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?" Clarke asked. It'd been a long day and she was too tired for mind games.

Bellamy's smile faltered but it was quickly replaced by something closer to his usual smirk. Clarke almost wished she'd kept her mouth shut.

"You're right, I don't know what came over me. Later, Princess. Sleep tight." He took one step away from her, but she reached out and grabbed his arm, spinning him back to face her.

"Seriously, Bellamy. What's going on? Was this--" It was almost too ridiculous to say out loud but she pushed on anyway. "Was this a date?"

"Oh Princess," Bellamy said, slowly looking her over from head to toe in a way that warmed her more than the casual press of his leg against hers ever could. "You'd know if it was a date."

Clarke fought back a shiver, though her face felt flushed, and found herself regrettably speechless. Again. Bellamy's smirk widened when he realized he'd gotten the last word and he turned and headed down the corridor without looking back.

_Ugh, arrogant ass,_  Clarke thought and stomped into her quarters. She was disappointed in herself for thinking even for a minute that Bellamy might be interested in her, or even worse that she might be interested in him. Still, she tossed and turned for hours trying not to think about the heat of his gaze and the curve of his mouth.

 

\---

 

The evacuation order came just before dawn. Clarke jolted awake with the sound of the first klaxons, her dream about long, tanned limbs and warm brown eyes framed by countless freckles fading fast as panic clawed at her throat.

"Okay. Okay, I can do this," Clarke said, taking a deep breath.

This wasn't her first evacuation and she knew the protocols well. Get dressed, pack what you can, get out. Simple. She just had to make her legs move. She took one more deep breath to steady herself and then she was up and moving, stuffing her meager possessions into her duffle and running for the infirmary as fast as her legs could carry her.

An hour later, she nearly had the last of their precious Med supplies packed into crates and was shouting for whoever was handy to get them on the transport ships. They were waging this war on next to no funding and they couldn't afford to lose anything just because they'd gotten too comfortable here and unpacked more than usual.

Another explosion rocked the base and Clarke knew she wasn’t imagining that they were getting more frequent. She recovered her footing and slammed the last crate closed.

"Okay, that's it. Get this stuff packed on the transport ship and then get on yourself. I'll be right behind you," Clarke ordered the soldier standing by.

She was about to make good on her word, just needed to grab her duffle and the data chip with the base personnel medical records when Bellamy came careening through the doorway.

"Clarke! Have you seen Octavia?"

He looked about ready to fly apart with worry. There weren't very many siblings in the Alliance. Lots of people had families back home, wherever back home was, and had set out alone in support of the cause or in search of personal greatness. Some were like her, orphaned by the Empire and looking for retribution. The Blakes were unique in that they brought all the family they had with them when they joined the Alliance. Something protective big brother Bellamy never let anyone forget.

"She's already gone. I sent her out with the second or third transport ship. She's already on her way to the rendezvous point," Clarke told him, laying a calming hand on his shoulder.

Instead of relaxing, Bellamy’s worry somehow ramped up in intensity and he grabbed her tightly by the shoulders.

"Was it the second or the third? The second or the third?!"

"I think it was the second. I'm pretty sure. I didn't see her get on, but I'm pretty sure. Why? Bellamy, what's wrong?"

There was the slightest shine of unshed tears in his eyes and he looked terrified. Clarke didn’t know what to do with the depth of his emotions. She thought fleetingly that maybe it was a good thing siblings were rare on base. It was amazing the Blakes ever got anything done since they were always so busy worrying about each other.

"There's a Star Destroyer in orbit. They shot down the third transport ship. No survivors,” he spat out.

Clarke covered his hands with hers and rubbed her thumbs soothingly over his knuckles. "She was on the second one. I’m sure of it. We'll see her when we get to the rendezvous point."

He nodded and let go of her, visibly composing himself. "Yeah, come on. Blue Squadron is escorting the next transport ship past the barricade and I want you on it."

"Careful, I'm going to start thinking you care whether I live or die," Clarke said, grabbing her bag and tucking the data chip into her pocket. She was going for breezy sarcasm, but the joke must have fallen flat because when she turned back to him, Bellamy's face was so serious she almost took a step back.

"Of course I care, Clarke. Come on, let's get you on that ship."

Well, there was really nothing to say to that. The last word went to him again. Her imaginary scoreboard at this point read something like, Clarke: 0, Bellamy: 5 million.

He walked her right up to the ship, his hand a warm and constant presence on her back as they hurried along deserted corridors, and he didn't turn away until her feet were firmly on board. She caught a glimpse of him running across the hangar, off to oversee his squadron or whatever he should have been doing instead of acting as her personal escort, before she was pushed further into the ship by the crowd.

The atmosphere in the transport ship was tense as they buckled in and waited for lift off. A series of explosions shook them in their seats and Clarke closed her eyes and hoped, hoped that Blue Squadron had already made it to the relative safety of their X-wings. Apart from Octavia and Raven, anyone else Clarke might consider a friend was in that damn squad of fighter pilots.

"It'll be alright, dear," said Clarke's seatmate, a kindly looking Bothan she recognized as a member of Support Services. "We've made it out of worse than this."

Clarke mustered a smile and nodded, not quite able to speak, and breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the thrusters lift them off the hangar floor. They were going to make it. Blue Squadron had their back. No amount of Star Destroyers was a match for Bellamy Blake trying to make it back to his sister. Maybe siblings weren’t so bad after all.

 

\---

 

It was a bumpy ride, but in the end they did make it to the rendezvous point and Clarke let the tide of evacuees carry her out into the crowded hangar. Chaos reigned down on the floor. Far too many ships were crammed into the small space and hundreds of people were trying to reconnect with friends and colleagues. Most of them may have come to the Alliance on their own, but once there they all found a new family. Even her, she realized as she searched the crowd frantically for someone she knew.

"Clarke! Clarke, over here!"

Clarke spun toward the voice and and grinned when she saw Raven pushing her way through the crowd and knocking people aside with her cane.

"You made it!" Clarke said, flinging her arms around her friend. "I heard one of the transport ships got blasted. Have you seen Octavia?"

Raven laughed and pointed across the hangar where the top of an X-wing could just barely be seen. "She's safe. She's been bugging the hell out of any communications guy she can get her hands on, trying to get in touch with her brother."

"Sounds like her," Clarke said with a laugh. She felt lightheaded with relief and started off in the direction Raven pointed without really making a conscious decision to move first.

She spotted Bellamy first, and she told herself it was just because he was so tall and easy to see in his bright orange flight suit. Not because she was really looking for him in the first place. Of course not.

Octavia was next to him of course, the pair stood arm in arm while he argued with a member of the flight crew. She detached from him as they grew closer and launched herself at Clarke and Raven, her long hair flying out behind her, and the three of them collided into one enthusiastic embrace. Over Octavia's shoulder, Clarke saw Bellamy watching them all with a fond look. Realizing he had completely lost Bellamy’s attention, the flight crew guy finally gave up yelling and stormed off to yell about someone else’s illegal parking job.

“I’m so glad you guys are safe,” Octavia gushed, stepping back and holding them at arms length. “Bell said you guys barely made it.”

Clarke’s eyes widened and locked on his. “Did we lose anyone else?”

“No. All members of Blue are accounted for and as far as I know, we haven’t lost any more transports. Don’t worry, Princess, it wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle,” he said, a cocky smile ghosting over his face. There and gone again in an instant. His hair was damp and curled against his forehead and he looked bone tired. Maybe later she could get the play by play from Jasper and Monty to find out what had wiped him out so thoroughly in the space of only a few hours.

Then Raven noticed the char marks along the side of the X-wing and groaned in outrage. “Aw, come on! What the hell did you do to my ship, Blake?”

“Pretty sure it says Blake on the side and not Reyes, making her  _my_ ship,” Bellamy said with a roll of his eyes, like this was an old argument for them. It must be, because she just flapped her hand at him and ran her hands along the damage and he turned away, ignoring the quiet grumbles coming from his mechanic’s mouth.

“Listen, Clarke,” Octavia said, her eyes flitting between her and Bellamy. “Can you keep an eye on my brother here while I check in with Lincoln? Make sure he doesn’t pull any more death defying stunts today, yeah?”

She was gone, disappeared into the crowd before either of them could protest. Someone bumped into Clarke from behind and he reached out to catch her, big hands curving around her elbows and steadying her. Her hands landed on his white flight vest and she thought, what the hell, before stepping even closer and wrapping her arms around his neck. He stilled against her for one second, two, and then his arms were around her waist, gripping her tightly to him. She soaked in the comfort of his embrace for probably longer than she should have, but it wasn’t like he let go either. She finally stepped back and let her arms drop, pleased to see her smile mirrored on his face.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said.

His eyes crinkled as his smile widened. “Careful, I’m going to start thinking you care whether I live or die.”

Clarke huffed out a laugh and stepped close again. “Of course I care. Can’t get that date if you’re dead, now can I?”

 

\---

 

Their date was simple; shared cups of Monty’s moonshine while they watched the moons rise over the blue green planet they orbited. It turned out that quiet conversation came just as easily as their old arguments used to. When she kissed him, that was even easier, their lips and tongues and hands moving in sync as though they’d been doing it forever. She almost laughed at the way his brow furrowed in confusion when she finally pulled away.

“Let’s go find your bunk,” she told him, running a hand through his disarrayed curls.

He gaped at her and she did let out a laugh then. A small one.  Her imaginary scoreboard now read, Clarke:1, Bellamy: 5 million. She had a lot of catching up to do. Good thing she finally found a way to shut him up.

 

 


End file.
